Between Waves

Grief is making me angry.

It’s left a sick pit in my stomach that never seems to go away, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.

Its making me feel guilty for laughing and surviving

It’s making me afraid of everything. Afraid of loss. Afraid of the future. Afraid of feeling this pain forever.

It’s making me feel completely alone, even when I’m surrounded by people who love me and want to help.

It’s making me want to withdraw from the world. To be alone. To hide.

It’s making me envy others. Not because I don’t want them to be happy, but because I miss the person I was before my world fell apart.

It’s making me more protective of my energy. I no longer have the capacity to carry things that don’t matter.

It’s making me tired in a way sleep can never fix.

It’s making me look at myself and not recognise the person staring back.

It’s making me look at my partner and realise we’re both trying to navigate a life neither of us ever wanted.

It’s making me question everything I thought I knew about life, death, purpose and what comes next.

Its making me want to search for my soul

Its making me feel pain in other people that I never truly understood before

It’s making me see the world differently. The things that once seemed important often don’t anymore.

It’s making me wonder if I’m losing my mind.

It’s making me self destructive at times. Desperate to feel something other than constant pain.

It’s giving me constant anxiety.

It’s giving me panic attacks that make me feel like I can’t breathe.

It’s making me less tolerant, less patient, less willing to pretend I’m okay when I’m not.

It’s making me question every decision I ever made.

It’s making me replay moments over and over in my head especially late at night

It’s making me search for answers where there are none.

It’s making me blame myself.

It’s making me carry guilt that feels impossible to put down.

It’s making me wonder if I was a good enough mum.

It’s making me convince myself I should have done more.

It’s making me think that if I had just done one thing differently, the outcome might have changed.

It’s making me hold myself responsible for things that were never mine to control.

It’s making me judge myself more harshly than I would ever judge anyone else.

It’s making me forget all the ways I loved and cared, and focus only on what I think I got wrong.

It’s making me carry the impossible burden of believing I should have been able to save my child.

But despite all of that…

It’s made me realise that the person I was died with my son, and now I’m trying to discover who I am becoming.

It’s also shown me how deeply I can love…
Because grief is the price of love
And the reason this pain is so unbearable is because the love I have for my son is immeasurable….
I would give anything not to carry this grief.
But I would also never give up the love that created it

So for now, I carry both
The love
And the pain
Together
❤️